


Praise-starved

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [216]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:10:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10658487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Hux figures out Kylo needs praise.





	Praise-starved

It hadn’t taken Hux long to realise his Knight was starved for positive attention. It wasn’t as if it was a hard leap of logic to make: he was the son of high-achievers, who had run away from home. He’d attached himself to a mentor figure, and been furiously driven to excel for him, to impress him, to be the best. _The_ best. The only one.

Kylo _wanted_ people to appreciate him. Half of his bad behaviour and outbursts were cries for attention ( _any_ attention was better than none, apparently), and the other half were because he couldn’t cope with his emotions. And many of those emotions were because of perceived failures, which then lead to outbursts, which were themselves examples of failures… and so on, ad nauseam.

But say a few - sincere - words and he would first react with shock, and then with flustering, and then with that eager ‘so what in _particular_ did you like the most?’ fixation, which he thought he was doing with tact and a light hand, but in reality it was as transparent as a viewscreen window out onto deep space.

Praise - real praise - is not Hux’s strongest suit. He’s never really known it himself, and he always worries he’ll come across insincere, from sheer lack of practice, not his emotional connection with it. He doesn’t know how to pitch his voice, or what topics to approach, or what words to use. He’s trying, though, and little by little, Kylo’s started accepting his compliments faster.

Simple things, such as the softness of his hair. The warmth of his smile. The strength in his body. Things he can’t argue against, or disprove. 

Those are how you start. Hux works his way up to situational compliments, taking the time to highlight the best element in his work, or a thing he’s done exceptionally well. He likes to give these out sparingly in public debriefings, now Kylo’s more open to coming to them. Nothing too heavy-handed, so it doesn’t reek of favouritism, but an open acknowledgement of his efforts. 

It makes him work even _harder_. Hux would kick his past self if he could: if only he’d realised the man was desperate to please, and to feel needed, they would have gotten much further, much sooner.

But… neither of them are perfect. What matters is he knows, now.

He saves the best compliments for late at night, when they’re alone. When his lover is using that long tongue of his so well, or when he’s stretched-out and fucked-out. He calls him beautiful, and gentle, and strong, and sweet. He whispers in his ear that he’s _such a good boy_ as Kylo wracks his body with fervid thrusts. He combs his fingers through his hair whilst his head lies on Hux’s chest, and tells him he’s so powerful, so loving, so generous, so… _good_. Such a good boy. So considerate. So caring. So giving. So sweet. 

He can only say those things when Kylo’s walls are down, and he feels the man thaw, the sharp barbs that prick his heart pulling back, giving the man inside back to Hux. The way he holds tighter, and the way his eyes speak a loyalty his tongue doesn’t know how to forge.

Hux means them. Every single word. He means them. 

And - little by little - he thinks Kylo believes it, too.


End file.
